


Samhain

by Flowerflamestars



Series: Ivy Moon [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian is about to cry, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Nesta's godlike power, The legacy of female family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerflamestars/pseuds/Flowerflamestars
Summary: Samhain had come with the pass of the witching hour. For a single day, the veil lifted. Ghosts might become more visible- stronger, visiting their magical descendants. For Nesta, who could hear them every day of her life, this was the time her power swelled to its zenith.The in-between, those grey hours, when she could interact with the dead like they still walked the earth.And this year, she recognized Caterina’s hazel eyes.





	Samhain

  
A dead witch brushed Nesta’s cheek at two in the morning.

The time had come. She tumbled as quietly as she could from Cassian’s bed, off balance from the difficulty of untangling his embrace. Not fully awake, his brow crinkled as Nesta slid away.

She barely made it to the roof when the ghosts started coming thickly. Unlike the werewolf sleeping two floors bellow, Nesta couldn’t see in the predawn dark. But even stumbling up the stairs, she could see the dead.

A cool kiss on both cheeks from her grandmother- the Archeron who’d raised Nesta never visible, never stayed beyond a moment long enough to make sure her granddaughter, the heir to her dark, impossible gift, knew she only ever need call upon her.

But it was out in the open air of the wards she’d woven on Cassian’s home, clear starry sky above despite the pulse of the city around them, that a ghost she’d known for nearly as many years stepped out of the nothing.

“_Reinita_,” The long dead werewolf called in greeting, striding foreword to take both Nesta’s hands. Today, tonight, she could.

Samhain had come with the pass of the witching hour. For a single day, the veil lifted. Ghosts might become more visible- stronger, visiting their magical descendants. For Nesta, who could hear them every day of her life, this was the time her power swelled to its zenith.

The in-between, those grey hours, when she could interact with the dead like they still walked the earth.

And this year, she recognized Caterina’s hazel eyes.

After all, her youngest son’s gaze was the thing Nesta fell asleep to. Beloved, on both faces, in such different ways. She’d never been sure- the time after her own mother’s death a haze until the Hunt found them- but Nesta was very nearly certain that Caterina Aguilar had been watching over her since birth.

Involuntarily, Nesta squeezed both hands. “Did you always know?”

Cat- she’d always called her Cat, all those years- smiled softly, and shook her head, dark curls swaying around her face. “No.” Nesta couldn’t help but see Az in the smile. Now that she knew them, knew everything, how could she possibly have thought she’d been prepared for this moment? “There was something about you, darling. I thought you might grow up to lead a pack, like I did. The moons mark was on you, and my time as a mother was always cut short.”

Nesta saw the hug coming, used it as an excuse to swallow the sudden burn of tears. _A mother_\- not something any of the Acherons had truly possessed in a long, long time.

Their mother had moved on. After the demise of their human father she’d simply followed after him- Nesta had no doubt that she’d followed him still into the peace of human death. Not once had she ever answered the summons of her death-blessed daughter.

But Cat always had. Estella. Farzaneh, Leila, Amaya, Zaynab, old Emine, laughing Isabella- generations of magic handling women and werewolves that Nesta had never known she owed to Cassian. The dead to whom time didn’t matter, who’d seen her as family, always come to her regardless of Cassian’s presence in her life.

Was this the bond wolves always felt? _Pack_\- belonging, familiarity, kinship.

A laugh fought its way out of Nesta’s tight throat. “And the Spanish lessons?”

Cat chuckled in return, stepped back to take in the enchantment of stars overhead. “I’d like to say if was for fun,” She told Nesta, “But my grandmother insisted, actually.”

Something bright- excited, wild- was blooming beneath Nesta’s ribs. Steely, determined Estella Aguilar who wanted Nesta married and a pack alpha, no matter the obstacle of her being a witch. The last member of Cassian’s family to hold the gifts he carried. “Soul magic.“

The full strength of Cat’s grin was all her own, huge and fascinated. “Soul magic,” She agreed easily, before continuing with careful casualness. “Were you ready, when you found him?”

A lightening strike. A curse. Infinitely kind eyes. Bare tawny skin under temping moonlight and the best laugh Nesta had ever heard- ready was not the right word.

“Were you?” Nesta asked, meeting Cat’s gaze.

The sky was just beginning to lighten. Not dawn yet, but the edges of blackness beginning to cede way, even as the stars continued to shine. Power hummed beneath Nesta’s skin- she could feel the spirits of thousands, an uncounted number of sparks, now floating up out of the dark.

She kept the dead, and the dead kept her. This was their time.

“For Arian?” Cat was laughing again. “Never. After Rhysand was born, after the world kept turning._ Well,_ do you know I fell on top of him the first time we met? Knocked him straight to the cave floor, that poor man. He turned so red I was half convinced his wolf would have a scarlet coat.”

Not Caterina’s soul-bonded. But Arian Kamran Ahmadi- the werewolf who gave Azriel his night dark eyes and Cassian his booming laugh. Who’d forged the gold chain that hung around Nesta’s neck even now, amber humming softly with still strong protective magic.

Love is a choice and a destiny, Gywnn Ap Nudd had taught Nesta._ Love is freedom_.

She thought Cat had chosen well. “Never,” Nesta echoed.

Ready wasn’t the point at all. Cassian had fallen into her life- no less dramatically than a choice mistake in rappelling. She might have run if not for the surprise, and Cassian would never have followed. She might have found him ten thousand ways- but what mattered was this: that to be beside him, to know again the shape of his hands and keeness of his mind, was as easy as taking a breath.

Absurd, terrifying- Nesta barely knew him and understood him completely. And she loved it.

Nesta sighed out a gust of cold October air and let herself smile. “You ready to see him?”

For so utterly delicate a woman, the werewolf strength was unmistakable as Cat took her hand once more in answer.

She’d been thinking about this since the library. Not just the coming dying season, but the way Nesta herself existed as a physical threshold between the dead and the living. The reveal of a witches touch was true- so long as Cat held her hand, others would see as Nesta did on this in between day.

And so the long dead Caterina Aguilar followed her son’s mate down the stairs, and into the world of the living.

***

Caterina could feel the others gathering.

If she’d looked over her shoulder she’d see them; aunts and cousins, her pack and kin, at Nesta Archeron’s back as they always had been. The weave of the scarf Emine wore over her head twinkling under the kitchen light as she slid forward to weave braids in Nesta’s hair. Great Uncle Sebastiano arriving with click of his unneeded but doubtless immaculate cane. Estella scolding Leila as her hands wandered over bookshelves spilling plants and paperbacks.

She couldn’t look.

Because there he was: Cassian, her little Leo, strong and grown and happy, sleep rumpled in this kitchen that smelled like home. Cat could scent his emotions gentle on the air- confusion waking to an empty bed, care and concern and need for he must have realized what day this was.

Love. Like alchemy in every bit of the air of his home.

Her boy was_ loved_.

There would be time later- for questions, for stories, to meet each and every member of the family her sons had made. To see her Azriel, Rhysand, whose scent’s painted the air here too with contentment.

But now there was this; tired hazel eyes so much her own brightening as Nesta walked in. Shifting to vivid wolf amber with shock, with joy, as the witch pulled Caterina into the room and Cassian saw his mother for the first time in more than a century.

One more wolf arrived.

Cat scented him long before he was visible, tracked his steady movement through the growing crowd. Felt the spark in her own heart as he shifted, peace spooling out in waves. Arian took her free hand between both of his, gentle as the day they met.

“Love,” He murmured, dark eyes wet.

“I know,” Cat replied. And she did. It might as well have been her own heart split in two between them. Arian had always wanted to be a father, their time had been so brief. Once, twice, he pressed her hand to lips, Cat’s fingertips brushing the neatly trimmed beard she adored so much.

She smelled like a bonfire, but Nesta was pointedly looking away from the exchange.

That, they’d fix too. Family was not blood.

But now, they moved together to meet again the son she’d had but ten short years with, who Arian had only known in death.

Their Cassian, who’d made them proud every day.


End file.
